


Of Werewolves and Chimneys

by AthelFlead13



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Crack, Lore-inaccurate, Out of Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 16:20:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12511372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AthelFlead13/pseuds/AthelFlead13
Summary: While a farmer's village is being plagued by werewolf attacks, Trevor, Sypha and Alucard are asked to deliver a letter to a hermit. These two things are not entirely unrelated however. Can Trevor and Sypha stop bickering for long enough to resolve the gradually worsening situation?





	Of Werewolves and Chimneys

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I have not played more than a level of a Castlevania game, and am therefore not completely familiar with the lore. I have watched the netflix show, which my subconscious mixed with a bit of Fenris from Dragon Age and werewolf lore to give me the dream this story was based on. Being based on a weird as fuck dream, this story does not always make sense. But it needed writing, so enjoy.

"Werewolves don't fly."  
It was the strangeness of the sentence that made Trevor look up from his beer.  
"What?" he lulled, trying to focus on Sypha who was sitting across from him. She was looking a bit flushed. She pointed an unsteady finger at him.  
"You said," she started. "that you would admit that I was right when werewolves fly but…"  
"Uh? Whendiddisay that?" Trevor interrupted.  
"Don't interrupt," Sypha scolded a bit louder that she was aiming for.  
"You said that. Saidit two days ago…I think. But werewolves don't fly. They can jump quite far if they get a good running start, but they can't fly. Fact." To emphasize her point she took a long drink from her own beer.  
Trevor chuckled.  
"Well thank you for that useful insight, Miss Belnades." he said sarcastically. "I can see the seekers have taught you well."  
"I'm not done!" said Sypha again louder than she probably wanted. A few patrons looked their way annoyed, but refocused on their own drinks assuming the discussion to be a lovers' quarrel.  
Sypha slammed her mug on the table, spilling a splach of beer on the worn oak.  
"You said…" again with the unsteady finger in Trevor's direction.  
"You saidatchoudsay…that I'm right when werewolves fly. Werewolves don't fly so what you meant was that you'll never admit that I was right." She hiccoughed, the movement messing up her hair. Trevor noticed her drunken blush and indignant pout and had to admit she looked kind of adorable. Not that he'd say that out loud.  
"And what, tray pell, were you supposed to be right about?"  
Sypha's pout intensified, which meant that she was thinking. Then she sullenly laid her chin on the table.  
"I donemember." she mumbled.  
Trevor guffawed and beer spouted out of his nose.  
"I thought," he laughed mid-cough. "That the seekers were supposed to remember everything." he continued giggling, wiping the beer from his face.  
Sypha remained undefeated.  
"But when I remember," she said, jumping up and almost poking Trevor's eye out for the third time that evening. "you will admit that I was right! Tell him, Alucard!"  
Trevor looked up and saw the Damphir take the third chair at their table. He raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at Sypha.  
"What should I tell him, Miss Belnades?" he asked.  
"That werewolves don't fly!" said Sypha. So they were back on that topic.  
"They don't," Alucard agreed. "They don't jump exceptionally high either, which is surprising to some. They can jump quite far with a good running start, but they don't fly."  
"See?" Sypha said triumphantly. She hiccoughed again.  
"Fine. Fine," Trevor conceded. "You were right."  
"Ha!" Sypha exclaimed, before celebrating her victory by draining her beer.  
"Funny that you should mention werewolves," said Alucard. "Because I might have found us a job nearby"

***

Which is how they came to be walking towards a small farmhouse the next evening in the rain, Alucard at the front, Sypha and Trevor, both sporting the leftovers of a rather heavy hangover, trailing a bit behind. There had been werewolf attacks in the area, which was why the tavern had been so full of people the previous evening. Humanoid yet wolf-like figures had been spotted around full moons and slaughtered cattle had been found on the mornings after in their stables. It drove the farmers who had sold their cattle during the day to the tavern, to stay there until the morning.  
Their job however, was not to find and slay the beast that supposedly terrorized the countryside, although Alucard did have hopes they might find clues as to where his father’s troops were headed. They had been given the task to go see whether a hermit farmer who lived of little else than his vegetable garden in a small farmhouse was alright. The farmer’s daughter who had paid them to do so traded bread for turnips and unions with the hermit on occasion. For some reason she was worried about him.  
“She blushed when she told me” Alucard had deadpanned when he told his companions about the job.  
Trevor and Sypha had traded a look. It was not an unusual occurrence for girls to blush while speaking to Alucard, but a farm girl paying money to get news whether a antisocial hermit was alright? That might indicate a different reason for the girl’s blushing.  
Their suspicions were confirmed when they knocked on the door. It opened slightly ajar to reveal the face of a young man with light brown skin and hair as silver coloured as Alucard’s. The colour contrast was striking, and if the man hadn’t had bags under his eyes like he hadn’t slept in a weak, he would probably be a more handsome visage than the Damphir.  
“I do not wish to trade today, I’m sorry” he said with a soft gruff voice. He moved to close the door. Alucard opened his mouth to stop him, but Trevor stepped in and put his foot between the door.  
“Neither do we, good sir,” he said, all tact and charm that Sypha and Alucard could see right through. “We merely are here to deliver this letter, from Miss Madlin, from the mill nearby.”  
The hermit relented and opened the door a bit further, clearly intrigued. “Miss Madlin, she.. is she alright?”  
Sypha nodded. “But you don’t seem to be, sir,” she interjected. “I am a healer. If you let me in I can help cure your disease and...” Trevor was already strong-arming his way into the house. The man took a few feeble steps backwards, unable to stop the physically fitter man.  
“We’d also like to ask a few questions about the werewolf attacks around these parts that we’ve heard so much about.” Trevor said while pushing the door open.  
“I...I don’t like visitors. Please, I prefer a solitary life of fasting and prayer.” He protested, holding his hands up defensively. But Trevor and Sypha had already entered. Sypha looked around at Alucard.  
“Aren’t you coming in?” she asked. The Damphir shook his head.  
“I cannot, Miss Belnades.” He explained. “I have not been invited. I will wait here until you return, hopefully with news that can lead us to my father’s troops.” Sypha nodded in understanding and closed the door behind her, before stepping between Trevor and the Hermit, as Trevor eyed the other man menacingly. She took the man by the arm and escorted him from the very small hallway into a only slightly larger bedroom. Trevor took a glance at what seemed to be the only other room in the house, which was an even smaller storage room full of preserved fruits and vegetables. He could spot no dried or salted meats. The man was clearly abstaining from eating animals.  
Trevor entered the small bedroom, where Sypha had forced the man to lie down and was examining his pulse and temperature. The room was barely large enough for three people. There was a small table with two chairs and a cooking area with a chimney that seemed ridiculously large for the rest of the house, as Trevor noticed that a whole man could fit in there. The “bed” for lack of a better word was little more than a ramshackle wooden construction with no mattress or pillow to speak of. Sypha rummaged through her pack and took out her own woollen travel blanket to cover the man.  
“You have a high fever,” she said. “I hope you were resting before we came in, because that is the only way to have it pass. Though I do have something that may speed the process.”  
“No bleeding I hope,” Trevor remarked sarcastically. Sypha shot him an angry look.  
“Please,” she scoffed. “I said I’m a healer, by which I mean NOT a quack and a charlatan.” She took out one of the small pouches in which she kept the herbs she gathered. A blue ribbon set it apart form he others, although Trevor did not know what herb it was. Sypha pulled out a thick spicky leaf. It had gone a bit wrinkly from the drying process. She offered it to the man.  
“Suck this,” she said. Trevor had to bite his tongue to keep from giggling.  
“I am fine,” Sypha’s patient protested, pushing her hand away. “You come here with questions about the werewolf. I can tell you nothing which you don’t already know. Please, take your blanket and be on your way.” His voice seemed to have recovered some strength. He glowered at Trevor, who seemed oblivious.  
“We just want to know if you have seen anything suspicious.” Said Sypha. “Since you have no cattle the werewolf would not come here but maybe you have spotted him as he passed by your...” she stopped short of saying “windows” as she saw that the little room did not have any. The dark-skinned man raised an eyebrow.  
“I haven’t,” he deadpanned. Trevor snorted. Sypha threw him a murderous look. Trevor wondered what time it was.  
“Now please,” the hermit said, looking imploringly at Sypha. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate what you are trying to do, but I must insist you leave. My-my illness is contagious.” Sypha looked in his eyes. It was quite clear that he was lying.  
“what is your name?” she asked. The question took the hermit aback a bit.  
“Th-thanos.” He said. Sypha nodded sympathetically.  
“Thanos, what are you afraid of?” she then asked mercilessly. Thanos drew back and shook his head.  
“N-nothing,” he denied, then grunted and clutched his chest in pain. Sypha grabbed at his hand to pull it away in an attempt to look at what was ailing her patient. But she failed as Thanos showed remarkable strength in resisting her grip. Trevor took this moment to step in.  
“Sypha,” he said. “This man clearly does not want our help, nor can he help us. Let’s go” Sypha looked dismayed to leave a person in pain behind, which quickly led to realisation as she saw the rapid beard-growth Thanos was suddenly suffering from. She quickly stepped away from the transforming werewolf.  
“Yes, time to go. Goodbye, Thanos,” she said hastily. She quickly sped past Trevor to the front door of the cottage. She tried to pull it open, only to notice that it was stuck tight.  
“What the-,“ she said. “Alucard!” She yelled at the door. “Alucard, you vampiric asshole! Open this door!”  
“I’m sorry, Miss Belnades.” Came Alucard’s calm voice from the other side. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. I cannot risk the werewolf escaping.”  
Trevor had just enough time to be surprised at the amount of profanities in the variety of languages that came out of Sypha’s mouth, before he was almost run over again by her again as she walked back into the small room they had just ran out of. Trevor followed her in and saw Thanos writhing in pain on the small cot. His spine and face were slowly changing shape.  
“What do we do?” he asked Sypha. Sypha grinned at him. He did not like that grin.  
“You mean, what do you do,” she said drawing a sigil in the air with her fingers. “Just remember, werewolves don’t fly.” And then she turned into a light blue sparrow-hawk and flew out through the large chimney.  
Trevor did not have a varied vocabulary of profanities ready at that moment. He simply went with “fuck” as he turned around to look at the now transformed Thanos. The werewolf was not as large as others he had seen. Thanos attempts to underfeed himself in human form seemed to have had some effect. His fur was the same silver-white colour as his normal hair, though Trevor had little time to admire it as his attention was quickly drawn by the large claws and teeth that stood out all the more against Thanos’ small frame.  
“fuckfuckfuck” is what Trevor kept saying as he quickly jumped up the chimney, then started climbing. Before the werewolf was able to enter the fireplace as well, Trevor had climbed high enough for the monster not to be able to reach him with his grabbing claws. Sweating, still cursing and hating Sypha for flying off with that stupid smart-ass comment, he climbed up as fast as he could. An effort not helped by the tightness of the space.

***

Trevor was glowering at Sypha who was unable to contain her giggling fit. She had doubled over at the sight of Trevor squeezing himself out of the chimney and half climbing-half falling down the roof of the house. Even Alucard had an annoying immature grin on his face, which he half-heartedly attempted to hide by placing his hand semi-thoughtfully in front of his mouth.  
“Yes laugh it up, miss Belnades.” Grumbled Trevor. “It’s not like I am the only one covered in soot here.” He was referring to the small patches of black that dirtied the light-blue sleeves of Sypha’s robes. Sypha casually wiped them off.  
“A small matter,” she said. “I was still right though, you have to admit that.”  
Trevor snapped at this comment.  
“About what?!” he practically yelled. “What could you possibly have been right about this time?”  
“About werewolves not being able to fly. Admit it.” she looked at him, crossing her arms in expectation.  
“Fine!” Trevor raged. “You were right!” if it would make her shut up, he would say it.  
“How good of you to say so, Mr. Belmont.” Sypha cooed.  
“If you two are quite done bickering?” Alucard asked. “Perhaps we should do something about the werewolf living here.”  
Trevor looked around at the house he and Sypha had just narrowly escaped from. Muffled growling noises were coming through the walls. He could also hear the sound of scratching and even some soft whining like that of a puppy left behind by its owner. He turned to look at Sypha. The whining noises where clearly tugging at her heartstrings. Trevor shook his head.  
“No need,” he said. “the man is half starved and is quite capable of restraining himself when the full moon is out. Nor does he know anything about Dracula.” He noticed the grateful smile that Sypha sent him, but decided not to comment on it.  
“Besides,” he continued instead. “We performed the job we were paid to do, didn’t we?” He walked past his two companions back in the direction of the road.  
“So we are heading back to town then?” Alucard said.  
Trevor nodded.  
“I could use a drink.” He said. “And we have to tell a farmer’s daughter that the guy she fancies is a werewolf, so that should be a hoot.”


End file.
